


Season Two

by newtonforce



Series: Ordinary Things [2]
Category: Supernatural, The Office (US)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtonforce/pseuds/newtonforce
Summary: When corporate won't pay for the annual employee appreciation awards ceremony, Paul is forced to create a memorable evening on a shoestring budget.





	Season Two

“Tonight is the Dundies, the annual employee awards night here at Dunder Mifflin.” Paul held up a trophy of a businessman. “And this is everybody's favorite day. Everybody looks forward to it, because, you know, a lot of the people here don't get trophies, very often. Like Pam or Gabe.”

There were shots of Pam staring intently at her work and Gabe looking, confused, at a piece of torn paper.

“I mean, who's gonna give Gabe an award? Dunkin' Donuts? Plus, bonus, it's really, really funny. So, I, you know, an employee will go home, and he'll tell his neighbor, ‘Hey, did you get an award?’ And the neighbor will say, ‘No, man. I mean, I slave all day and nobody notices me.’ Next thing you know, employee smells something terrible coming from neighbor's house. Neighbor's hanged himself due to lack of recognition. So…” Paul sat back, pleased.

* * *

“So, you ready for the... the Dundies?” Dean asked, taking a piece of candy from Cas’ desk.

“Ugh…” Cas made a noise in the back of his throat.

* * *

“You know what they say about a car wreck, where it's so awful you can't look away? The Dundies are like a car wreck that you want to look away, but you have to stare at it because your boss is making you.” Cas nodded throughout, pausing after every word in the last part.

* * *

Paul approached Cas’ desk. “So why don't I take you on a tour of past Dundie winners? We got Winchester Rifle here. Dean, why don't you show of your Dundies to the camera?”

Dean shook his head. “Oh, I can't because I keep them hidden. I don't want to look at them and get cocky.”

“Oh, that's a good idea,” said Paul politely.

“Mine are at home in a display case above my bed,” Sam interjected.

“Gyaaah. T.M.I. T.M.I, my friends.” Paul walked a few steps towards Sam, but thought better of it.

* * *

“T.M.I.? Too much information. Ah, it's just easier to say T.M.I. I used to say ‘Don't go there’ but that's…” Paul shrugged. “-lame.”

* * *

Paul approached Rufus’ desk. “And here we have Rufus the Doofus. Now, Rufus is a Dundie all-star, aren't you, Roof? Why don't you, ah, show them some of your bling?”

Rufus blinked and went back to his work. “I don't know where they are, I think I threw them out.”

“Oh, no you di-int,” Paul said, not believing him.

“I think I did,” Rufus verified.

Paul suddenly realized. “W-why did you…”

Rufus looked up. “Say, we got to order some more apa-teezers this time. We ran out last year, remember?”

“Yes, we should. I... you know what? I wanted one of those skillets of cheese, but when I got off stage-” He turned to Gabe. “ _-someone_ had eaten all of them.”

* * *

“To Kevin Tran, it's the "Show Me the Money" award! Yeah!” Paul yelled in the video.

Cas turned to the camera. “Paul has taped every Dundies awards, and now he's making me look through hours of footage to find highlights.”

Kevin’s voice came from off camera. “That's supposed to be confidential.”

“He has the award-ah! ...it's a type of song that we are going to play for the ladies. Hit it, Sam!” Paul pointed at Sam.

Sam started playing "Mambo No. 5" by Lou Bega on his recorder.

Paul started singing along on the video. “A little bit of Cas, all night long, a little bit of Jess on the thing…”

Just then, somebody sat in front of the camera on the video, so even though nothing could be seen, Paul could still be heard.

“Oh, yeah, this is the part where Gabe sat in front of the camcorder all night. It's great.” Cas nodded slightly, eyes fixed on the screen halfheartedly.

“ ...a little bit of Michael eating chicken crispers... ...a little bit of Dean with some ribs, a little bit of…”

Cas mouthed, “Oh, my God!” to Dean, who was watching and laughing silently.

* * *

Pam shook her head. “It was you.”

Kali was quietly laughing. “It wasn't. I swear.”

Sam appeared, holding a pile of papers. “So, what's the joke? You're not perfect either.”

“We're not laughing at you, Sam,” said Cas sincerely.

“So who are we laughing at?” Sam asked.

Ellen blinked. “Um, just something somebody wrote.”

“Who? Dave Barry?”

Kali started laughing. “No. No, just something that was written in the ladies' room wall.”

“What is it? Who wrote it?” asked Sam, in interrogation mode.

Pam raised her eyebrows. “It's kind of private.”

“It's about Paul,” Ellen whispered.

“That is defacement of company property. So you better tell me,” Sam stated, clearly angry. “Kali, if you tell me, you'll be punished less.” The camera zoomed in on Kali’s uncomfortable face.

Laughter bubbled out of Cas’ mouth. “Okay, now I'm laughing at you.”

* * *

“Will her highness, Rowena MacLeod-Fisher, be descending from her corporate throne this evening to visit us lowly serfs here at Dunder Mifflin Scranton?” Paul asked the speakerphone.

“It's a, it's, it's a two and a half hour drive from New York, Paul,” Rowena said on speakerphone.

“Well, you could take the bus,” Paul suggested. “You could work on the way here. Sleep on the way home.”

“No.”

“Come on, Rowena. This is important,” Paul insisted. “I mean, this is, this is, validation to my employees here that you and corporate approve of this. So…”

“No, we don't approve of this, Paul.” Paul blinked, surprised. “I mean, y-you only had the budget for one office party a year, so... we're not paying for this.”

The camera zoomed in on Paul’s face. “Um…” He looked at the camera and motioned for the camera to leave the office. “Could you...?” He told the camera.

“Are you there, Paul?” Rowena asked.

“Yeah, I'm here, I just wanted to, uh, talk to you for a second about that.” Paul closed the blinds.

The camera tried to find a crack in the blinds.

“Um, what, ah, what is, I mean…” Paul made sure the blinds were closed.

The camera panned around to reception, where Cas was listening, clearly bored.

“...come on, Rowena!”

The camera went to a side of Paul's office where the blinds were still partially open.

“You're dropping an A-Bomb on me here!” Paul was in disbelief.

“Really? I'm dropping an atomic bomb on you?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted. “I mean, what is…”

“You already had a party on May 5th for no reason,” Rowena continued.

“No reason?!” Paul exclaimed. “It was the 05 05 05 party…”

“And you had a luau....”

“...it happens once every billion years!” Paul insisted.

“And a tsunami relief fundraiser which somehow lost a lot of money,” Rowena listed.

“Okay, no, that was a _fun_ -raiser. I think I made that very clear in the fliers, fun, F-U-N.” Paul leaned over the phone.

“Okay, well, I don't understand why anyone would have a tsunami fun-raiser, Paul. I mean, that doesn't even make sense.”

Paul sat back. “Well, I think a lot of people were very affected by the footage.”

* * *

“This is a little character I like to do.” Paul placed a green turban with a yellow feather on his head. “It is, uh, loosely based on Karnack, one of Carson's classic characters.” He put an envelope to his head. “Here we go. ‘The PLO, the IRA, and the hot dog stand behind the warehouse.’” He tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. “‘Name three businesses that have a better health care plans than Dunder Mifflin,’” Paul read. He paused for a moment, then threw the envelope away. “Here's the problem. There's no open bar because of Rowena and it's the reason why comedy clubs have a two drink minimum. It'll be fine, I just...wish people were going to be drunk.” Paul looked nervous, green turban still on his head.

* * *

 

The camera showed Sam trying to sneak into the women’s bathroom.

Ellen’s voice came through the door. “Sam, get out of here!”

The door swung open and Ellen pushed Sam out of the bathroom, finger pointed accusingly at his chest.

Sam held his hands up in surrender. “No, no, no, no…”

“What were you doing in the ladies room?!” Ellen asked, voice shrill.

“...no, no, no, no, it's not what you think.” Sam shook his head.

“Why were you peering over the stalls?!” Ellen asked, backing him into a wall.

“No, why were you in there?!” Sam yelled.

“You are a pervert!” Ellen declared.

“What were you doing in there?” Sam repeated.

“You, are, a pervert!” Ellen punctuated each word by pushing her finger into Sam’s chest.

“I am not.”

* * *

“The Dundie award for ‘Longest Engagement’ goes to Cas Novak!” Paul exclaimed on video. “Cas, everybody!” He started clapping.

In the video, Cas just sat there, stirring his drink, rolled his eyes and glanced over at Dean. Dean, at the adjacent table, crossed his arms and glanced over at Cas. Both looked annoyed.

“Whoooo! When is that boy gonna get married? That's what I have to say. Oh, Michael's accepting.”

The camera zoomed in on Cas’ face, resigned and hurt, as he sat at the table in the conference room. He glanced at the camera and quickly looked away.

“Yes,” said Michael, taking the award from Paul.

“Thank you, Michael. Are there any words you'd like to say, on Cas' behalf?” Paul snickered.

“Uh, we’ll-we'll see you next year.”

Cas looked down at the table, and the camera panned over to Dean’s desk, where he was watching, clearly noticing how hurt Cas was.

“Yeah, oh, hope not! Oh, God!” Paul laughed on the video.

* * *

Paul shook his head. “I'm not changing that, it's the best one.”

Dean nodded. “No, it's hilarious, you're right. I just think, um, ‘world's longest engagement’, um, we're all expecting it, you know?”

“That's why it's funny,” Paul explained. “Every year that Michael and Cas don't get married, it gets funnier.”

“Well, I think if you use the same jokes, it just comes across as lazy,” Dean told him.

“Oh,” said Paul, taking it to heart. “Lazy.”

* * *

“Excuse me, everyone, could I have your attention please?” Sam spread his arms in a T-pose in front of the conference room door. “I just wanted to say that the women in this office are terrible.” The camera panned to Ellen and Pam’s irritated faces. “Especially the ones who wrote that stuff about Paul on the bathroom wall. Having a bathroom is a privilege. It is called a ladies room for a reason. And if you cannot behave like ladies, well, then you are not going to have a bathroom.”

“You're taking away their bathroom?” Cas asked, crossing his arms.

“We are going to have two men's rooms,” Sam declared.

“But where would we… _go_ ?” Ellen whispered.

“Be prepared to hold it, folks,” Sam advised.

Paul came out of his office.

“From 9 am to…” Sam continued.

“Paul.” Cas interjected.

“Yes.” Paul didn’t look at him, standing in front of Sam.

“Sam is banning the women from their bathroom,” Cas said, blue eyes full of annoyance.

Paul looked at Sam, fed up. “Okay, well, that's just ridiculous, so just don't, I-I don't have time for this right now.”

“No, there needs to be repercussions…” Sam began.

“Just don't, don't talk-” Paul interrupted.

“...for people's behavior.” Sam’s eyebrows raised almost above his glasses.

“Don't talk-”

“And it's-” Sam continued.

“Just STAP IT, YAP IT!” Paul shouted. “Okay, look, I know there have been a lot of rumors flying around about the Dundies this year. How there is no money, and how there is no food, and how the jokes are really bad, but WHAT THE HELL, EVERYBODY!? I mean, God.”

Cas, standing in the doorway, appeared lost in thought.

“The Dundies are about the best, in every, one of us. Can't you see that? I mean, okay, we can do better.” Paul appeared a bit tearful. “So, tonight, for the first time, we are inviting all of your friends and family to attend the awards with us.”

“Yes!” said Sam, with a small fist pump.

“Yeah, not bad, right? So let's make this the best Dundies ever.” Paul nodded, and the camera panned to the excited faces of the employees.

Sam started clapping. “Best Dundies ever.”

* * *

“Welcome to the eighth annual Dundies awards.” Sam gripped the microphone in his hands.

The camera panned to everybody talking and ignoring Sam.

“Before we get started, a few announcements. Keep your acceptance speeches short, I have wrap it up music, and I'm not afraid to use it.” Sam pointed at his coworker. “Devon!”

* * *

Paul started rapping, wearing a gray hoodie over his suit. “‘The Dundies, how can I explain it? Awards you like to hate it. I'm psyched you all made it. You never had to work so hard and feel that no one notices you. You're just a name and number and no one even says hello.’” Paul made a motion to Benny. “Card!”

Benny held up a piece of posterboard with Paul’s lyrics on it.

* * *

“The Dundies are kind of like a kid's birthday party,” Kevin began tiredly back in the office. “And you go, and there's really nothing for you to do there. But the kid's having a really good time, so you're, kind of there. That's-that's kind of what it's like.”

* * *

Paul started dancing. “‘You down with The Dundies? You down with the Dundie-’”

The music stopped, and Paul looked back at Sam.

“The waitress tripped on the cord,” Sam explained.

“Alright, alright, joke landed. So we are here, thank you all for coming to the 2005 Dundie awards.” Paul took off the sweatshirt to reveal his tuxedo. “I am your host, Paul Hortman. And I just want to tell you please, please, do not drink and drive. Because you may hit a bump and spill the drink!”

Jess rolled her eyes.

* * *

“Oh, just put these on the group tab,” Gabe told the waitress.

“Nope, actually this year, ah, no group tab, we're going to be doing separate checks.” Paul nodded and the camera zoomed in on Michael and Cas’s irritated expressions.

“You said, we could bring our families,” said Rufus gruffly.

“I did,” Paul confirmed. “And why didn't you, Rufus?”

“I did, my wife's name is Terri,” Rufus replied.

“Well, I'm looking forward to meeting Terri,” said Paul diplomatically.

Rufus blinked. “It's this person whose hand I'm holding, Paul.”

Paul was dumbfounded, and Sam pushed a button on his keyboard that said, “ _Oh, yeah_.” Paul whispered to Sam in a low voice. “Shut it.” Then, in his normal voice: “Um, good. Speaking of relationships, of all, all way shapes and forms. Um, I was out on a very, very hot date with a girl from HR, Sam.”

Sam blinked. “Really? We don't have any girls from HR.”

Paul sighed. “No, that...for the sake of the story. And things were getting hot and heavy.”

“Yeah?” Sam urged.

“And I was about to take her bra off…” Paul continued.

“Yeah!” Sam grinned.

“...when she made me fill out six hours of paperwork-”

“Like an AIDS test?” asked Sam knowledgeably.

“No!” said Paul. The camera showed Pam sipping a margarita and shaking her head. “Then, under his breath, “God.” He cleared his throat. “Alright, so, let's get this party _stahted_.”

“Hey, let's go to Poor Richard's,” Victor whispered to Michael and Cas.

Michael was rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, let's get out of here.” The two stood up.

Cas looked up. “Um…”

“Um, guys, where you going?” Most of Paul’s face betrayed none of his hurt, but his eyes did. “Cas, show's just getting started.”

“Sorry.” Cas seemed genuinely apologetic.

“You staying?” Benny asked Dean.

Dean flipped open the menu. “Yeah, gotta eat somewhere.”

Paul gripped the microphone. “And now... to someone who quietly goes about their job, but always seems to land the biggest accounts…” He smiled. “...the ‘Busiest Beaver’ award goes to Ellen Harvelle.”

Everybody started clapping. Ellen got out of her booth and made her way to Paul, giving Dean a high five along the way.

Paul grinned, clapping. “Yeah, way to go, Ellen. Nice work, per usual.”

Ellen looked down at her trophy. “This says ‘Bushiest Beaver’.”

“What? I told them ‘Busiest’...” Paul shook his head, angry. “-idiots.”

Ellen shook her head. “It's, it's fine.”

“Well, we'll fix it up. You don't have to display that.”

Ellen went back to her seat.

* * *

Cas and Michael were at the truck, arguing. Cas’ hands were spread out, pleading. “...because that's what happens every time!”

Michael shook his head and started walking to the truck. “...talking about? He's a jackass every year.”

Cas shook his head. “No.”

Michael grabbed Cas' arm. “Come on, we're going to Poor Richard's.”

Cas broke Michael's grip. “No, I don't want to go, I don't want to.”

“Cas. Go,” Michael gritted out.

Cas started walking away, Michael staring after him. “If you would have asked me that, then you would know.”

* * *

Paul had on fake teeth and glasses with squinted eyes on them. In a stereotypical oriental accent, he went, “Herro, everybodeeee. I'm gonna cwall Wowena MacReod-Fisheww.”

Dean smiled and pulled his plate closer to him. “Hey! How are ya? I thought you left?”

“Oh, no, I just, I decided to stay.” Cas took off his coat.

“Oh!” Dean was excited.

“I'll just get a ride home from Jess,” Cas demurred.

“Oh.”

Cas glanced at Paul. “Oh, good, I'm just in time for Ping.”

Dean nodded, taking a bite of his food. “Yeah.”

“Oh, dat wir be fwar. Ah, me so horny,” Paul said, still doing his impression.

The camera zoomed in to an Asian customer behind Paul, who was looking at him in disbelief.

“Right? You know wat I'm talking 'bout.”

“Can I get a drink?” Cas asked an off camera waiter, still clutching Dean's beer.

“This next award goes to somebody, who really, lights up the office.” The camera cut to Cas drinking the beer. “Somebody, who I think a lot of us, cannot keep, from checking out. The ‘Hottest in the Office’ award goes to... Benny, the temp!”

Cas made an “o” surprised face, laughing with Dean.

“Yeah.” Paul started singing along with the music. “‘Hidy ho, you sexy thang. You sexy thang, you.’ Here you go.”

Paul smacked Benny’s ass as he walked away.

* * *

“What am I going to do with the award?” Benny seemed in a daze, and he scoffed. “Nothing. I-I don't know what I'm going to do. That's the least of my...concerns, right now.”

* * *

“And the ‘Tight Ass’ award goes to Jess.” The camera panned to her judgemental expression. “Not only because she is everybody's favorite stickler, but because she has, a great caboose. So...come on down.”

Jess didn’t move. “No.”

Cas started laughing, clearly a little bit drunk. He started sipping an empty glass.

“I think those might be empty,” Dean told him, smiling.

“No, no. 'Cause the ice melts and then it's like, second drink!” Cas laughed.

“Second drink?” Dean started laughing.

* * *

“The ‘Spicy Curry’ award goes to our very own Kali Kapoor!” Paul announced. “Get on up here. Here you go.”

“‘Spicy Curry’, what's that mean?” Kali asked, taking the trophy.

“Um, not everything means something, it's just a joke.” Paul laughed.

“Yeah, but why'd you give it to me?” Kali asked.

Paul put his hands into his pockets. “I don't know, it's just…”

“This is a bowler-” Kali continued.

“I know. It's ju- they didn't have any more businessmen. So...

Kali shook her head. “Yeah, but everyone else-”

Paul sighed. “Just sit down, Kali.”

* * *

Paul was sweaty and chugging water from a bottle. “It's so freakin' hot in there. Now I know what Bob Hope was going through when he performed in Saudi Arabia. Man! I got Sam sucking the funny out of the room, but you do what you can do.” Music started playing in the background. “Here we go, he's early with the cue. Here we go.” Paul started back out.

* * *

Paul was singing to the tune of "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John. “‘You have won a tiny Dundie.’”

A guy at the bar said, “Sing it, Elton.”

Paul smiled and stopped singing. “Hey, thanks, guys. Hey, where you guys from?”

Another guy at the bar laughed. “We just came from yo' mama's house.”

Paul’s eyes dulled. “Oh, alright, yeah.”

“Sing 'em a song, dude,” the first guy urged.

“Uh, you know what, guys, we're just having a little office party, so if you want, uh…” Paul gripped the microphone.

Something flew by Paul. “Hey, you know, cool it, guys, really-”

The guy at the bar threw another object, which looked like a wad of wet napkins, and this time it hit Paul on the shoulder.

“You suck, man!” the guy yelled.

Paul turned to Sam. “Let's cut it.” Sam turned the music off.

Paul cleared his throat, and then began with a lot less enthusiasm, “I had a few more Dundies to, uh, give out tonight, but, I'm just going to cut it short. And wrap it up so everybody can enjoy their food. Um...thanks for listening, those who listened.” He cleared his throat. “This last Dundie is for Gabe, this is the ‘Don't Go in There After Me’ award. It's for the time that I went into the bathroom after him, and it was really, really smelly. So…” Paul gave Gabe his award. “There you go.”

Cas started clapping. “Yay, Gabe. Whoo hoo, for Gabe! For stinking up the bathroom.”

Dean starts clapping. “Yeah, alright, Gabe.” More people started clapping.

“Woo! Hey, I haven't gotten one yet!” Cas called, smiling.

Dean nodded, grinning. “Yes, I have not gotten one either. So keep going.”

“More Dundies!” Cas urged.

“Dundies! Dundies! Dundies! Dundies!” Dean and Cas began, laughing and clapped.

Everybody also started clapping. “Dundies! Dundies!”

Paul seemed to be getting his spirit back. “Alright, alright, alright, okay. Alright, we'll keep rolling. Okay, this is the fine work award. This goes to Rufus, for all the fine work he did this year.” Paul handed Rufus his trophy.

“Fine work!” Cas whooped. “Fine work, Rufus!”

Paul grinned. “You know you did.”

“Here, here! Speech, speech, speech, speech-” Cas chanted. Other people started joining in.

Rufus examined his trophy. “Well, well, last year, I got great work, so I don't…”

Cas started laughing his cute drunk, hysterical laugh.

Rufus continued. “So, I don't know what to think about this award. But at least I didn't get smelliest bowel movement like Gabe.” He started chuckling and went to sit back down.

“And this next award is going out to our own little Cas Novak…”

The camera cut to Cas, whose face went from drunken elation to sober realization.

Paul continued. “...I think we all know what award Cas is going to be getting this year.”

The camera quickly cut to Dean, who had a look of scared expectation.

“It is the ‘Whitest Sneakers’ award! Because he always has the whitest tennis shoes on!” Paul held up his trophy. “Get on down here! Cas Novak, ladies and gentlemen!” Cas grabbed the microphone from him. “Oh, here we go.”

“I have so many people to thank for this award,” Cas began, laughing throughout.

There was a quick cut to Dean, laughing and staring at Cas with amused wonder.

“Okay, first off, my Keds. Because I couldn't have done it without them.” People clapped, Cas nodding and smiling. “Thank you. Let's give Paul a round of applause for MC-ing tonight because...” People started clapping again. “...this is a lot harder than it looks. And also because of Sam, too.”

Sam stood up, but nobody clapped.

“Um, so, finally, I want to thank God. Because God gave me this Dundie,” Cas continued, dead serious.

The camera made a quick cut to Dean- he's didn't know whether to laugh or take Cas seriously, so he gave him an amused, appreciative grin.

“And I feel God in this Chili's tonight.” Cas suddenly smiled, thrust his hand into the air, and yelled, “WHOOOOOOOO!!”

Paul laughed. “Cas Novak, ladies and gentleman.” Cas hugged him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He grinned, eyes bright. “Oh! Thank you.”

Cas went back to their table and threw his arms around Dean’s shoulders and kissed him, then broke away, laughing, not noticing Dean’s internal conflict.

* * *

“What a great year for the Dundies,” Dean remarked, sitting on a pair of barstools with Cas. “We got to see Ping.” Cas nodded, staring at Dean, looking a bit pale. “And we learned of Paul's true feelings for Benny.” Cas nodded again. “Which was touching. And, we heard Paul change the lyrics to a number of classic songs.” Cas nodded quickly. “Which for me, has ruined them for life.” He looked at Cas, who was staring at him and nodding.

Dean looked at the camera, then back at Cas, who was still nodding.

Dean glanced at Cas. “What?”

Cas shook his head. “Nothing.”

Dean looked at the camera, chewing. “Okay.”

Cas grinned, leaning towards Dean conspiratorially. “What?”

Dean turned to him, also grinning. “I don't know, what?”

Cas started laughing, then suddenly fell off the bar stool.

Dean stopped smiling, then saw Cas was fine and then laughed a little. “Oh, my God! You are so drunk!” He looked at the camera, Cas laughing in the background. “Did you get that? Please tell me you got that. This is all going to be on.”

Sam started leaping over tables, yelling. “Quick, quick, the man is having a seizure! Grab his tongue, grab his tongue! It's okay, I'm a sheriff's deputy.” He pushed Dean out of the way.

Dean shook his head. “Well, he's a volunteer.”

Sam raised a finger at Dean. “Don't get into that now. We need something to cushion his head. Throw pillow? A cush-”

“Sam come on, come-” Dean rolled his eyes. The camera showed Paul glancing over and continuing to sing his modified version of “Tiny Dancer”.

“It's okay, I'm going to use my shirt.” Sam started taking off his shirt, but got stuck.

Cas shook his head from his position on the floor. “Sam, get off me!”

A Chili's employee came over as Dean was helping Cas up. Sam was still stuck in his shirt.

“I'm sorry, you're gonna have to put your clothes back on, people are trying to eat.”

Sam was struggling. “Ahh! I can't-”

* * *

Paul pretended to reflect backstage. “Was this year's Dundies a success? Well, let's see, I made Cas laugh so hard, that he fell out of his chair, and he almost broke his neck. So I killed, almost.” He laughed, looking around. No one else was laughing. 

* * *

“Oh, my God!” Cas yelled as he and Dean left the restaurant, running up to the camera.

“Whoa.”

Cas continued, arms raised above his head, gripping his Dundie in one hand. “I just want to say, that this was the best, Dundies, ever!” Cas started screaming. “WHOOO!!”

Dean started holding Cas’ arms for balance, and Cas looked up at him, laughing. “Whoa. Whoa, careful, careful.”

* * *

One of the Chili's employees seemed resigned. “We have a strict policy here not to over serve.” The camera showed shots of Cas hugging everybody from the office as they left the restaurant. “Apparently, this young man was sneaking drinks off other people's tables. I Xeroxed his driver's license and he is not welcome to this restaurant chain ever again.” The man clicked his tongue and sat back. 

* * *

“Great work tonight,” Paul said as he and Sam left the restaurant.

“Watch your step,” Sam warned.

Paul nodded, ignoring this. “Excellent.”

Sam adjusted the pile of costumes on his shoulder. “Thanks, I had to, uh, check his pupils to make sure there wasn't a concussion.”

“Yes, that too, but I mean with the audio. Great work.”

Sam glanced smugly at Benny.

* * *

Jess, sitting on the side of the curb with Kevin, said, “I feel bad about what I wrote on the bathroom wall.”

Kevin shook his head. “No, you don't.”

Jess laughed.

* * *

Dean looked up. “Oh, here he is. Careful, careful, whoa.” Cas laughed. “Alright, easy. Almost there.”

Cas paused, sounding almost normal. “Hey, um, can I ask you a question?”

Dean stepped closer. “Shoot.”

Cas stared at Dean for a second, then glanced at the camera and realized he was still on camera. “Um, I just wanted to say thanks.”

Dean nodded, expression clearing. “Not really a question.” He started to laugh. “Okay, let's get you home, you're drunk.” He opened the door for Cas, who was laughing a little. “Alright.”

“Bye,” said Cas softly.

Dean shut the door. “Goodnight, have a good night. Thank you, Jess.”

“Tiny Dancer” by Elton John started to play as Dean watched them drive away, hands in his pockets, smiling a little, before glancing at the camera and walking away.


End file.
